Home
by Acid-Rush
Summary: COMPLETE. After AOD, Lara returns to Croft Manor with Kurtis in tow to recuperate. Now their missions are over, how will they adjust back to normal life?
1. Default Chapter

**Title: Home  
Author: AcidRush  
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or anything else associated with Tomb Raider. No copyright infringement intended. No profit being made. Don't sue - I am a poor, lowly student.  
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**"Bryce! Hillary!"   
I yelled as I flung open the main doors to Croft Manor and strode confidently in to the entrance hall, Kurtis hobbling in behind me on crutches. Bryce bounded into view at the top of the lower staircase from the walkway above our heads, a look of happiness on his face that was quickly replaced with wariness. I smiled warmly.   
"I'm home!"  
A look of confusion now flitted across Bryce's features and he took a step forward.  
"Feeling...better?"  
His look was questioning yet hopeful. He was, of course, referring to the fact that after I had arrived home from Egypt, grimy, clad in my old tomb raiding clothes full of holes and tears, still healing physically yet not even begun mentally, I was, to put it bluntly, a bitch. I had spent a few weeks regaining my strength with a nomadic tribe who had taken me in before facing the inevitable and returning home, bartering passage and stowing away on various trade vessels to find my way back home to England, my old conveniences such as money and credit cards all whisked away by Bryce and Hillary in the practical affairs of dealing with a death.   
I could see the memories of the last time I'd appeared in the doorway push to the forefront of Bryce's mind.  
_The rain hammered on the skylights of the mansion as Bryce sat curled up in a chair wallowing in misery and grief over Lara's death. Needing to be nearer to her somehow, he had finally moved into one of the 87 rooms of the mansion from his small battered trailer in the grounds, taking the bedroom down the hall from Lara's. A weary knocking interrupted his thoughts and he raised his head slowly, a symptom of his reduced reaction to anything in the outside environment since Werner had brought the news that had left a permanent crushing numbness over him. The knocking took up again, and he tiredly started towards the door, noticing Hillary also approaching from the lounge, but making no acknowledgement. Reaching it first, he opened it, and then staggered back at the sight that greeted him. Standing in the doorway, dripping blood and raindrops, dressed in her tomb raiding clothes that were now marred_ _by rips and dirt, was Lara. He breathed her name almost in unison with Hillary, and then lunged forward to take her in a hug, to feel her and make sure she was still alive, to make sure she could never be put in danger again. Her hand connected solidly with his chest and he staggered again, falling against the door. Now out of her way, Lara stalked in past him, causing Hillary to step back and stare after her in shock as she thumped up the stairs to her room. No word, no smile, nothing but barked orders and fiery glares for the next 5 months as Hillary and Bryce witnessed Lara retreating further and further into her own world, pushing away all outside contact. The loss of her soul had been even more painful than the loss of her life, and when the two employees awoke one morning to an atmosphere free of the usual oppression it had gained since Lara's return, and confirmed their suspicions with evidence of her departure from the house, they had only begun to hope that she would return, and when she did, she would be healed, the old Lara, full of life and passion and a love for adventure.  
_ I remembered the way I had treated them, and cringed, knowing that Bryce fully deserved an apology, as did Hillary, but, understanding that such things did not come easily to me, they would probably not even want one. I felt even guiltier at that thought, and stepped forward towards Bryce, holding out my arms in greeting. Bryce flew down the remaining stairs and grabbed me, lifting me and swinging me round with a look of pure joy in his eyes before setting me down and hugging me so tightly I could barely breathe. I returned the sentiment wholeheartedly, crushing my loyal friend to me and revelling in the return of friendship.   
"I missed you," I whispered, referring to more than just my time away dealing with the Cabal.  
"I missed you, too," he returned, "We were so worried."   
We pulled apart and I smiled weakly, my hands still on his shoulders whilst his rested on my waist.   
"I'm sorry," I said, as clearly and loudly as I could, keeping eye contact as I did so. It wasn't an easy thing for me to do, but Bryce deserved it.  
"It's ok," he breathed, pulling me into another hug, looser this time. Swaying me slightly and patting my back, I lost myself in his comfort, closing my eyes and resting my head on his shoulder.   
This time it was he who pulled back, though only enough to look at me. He pushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear before landing a quick kiss on my forehead.   
"Hillary's gone to see his mum, she's not too well. I'll phone him, let him know you're ok. That is," he continued, "after..." His voice trailed off and his eyes rested on Kurtis, standing to one side waiting patiently for the reunion to be over. I hadn't even realised that Bryce had noticed him, and I leapt to the formalities.   
"Oh, Bryce, this is Kurtis Trent. Kurtis, this is Bryce. I met Kurtis in Paris, he was caught up in the same business as I. We worked together."   
The two men shook hands, and I motioned to the main lounge, giving Bryce a questioning look as I did, silently asking him to attend to Kurtis as I started off towards the phone to ring Hillary. Bryce obliged, and I took a breath, steeling myself for what I hoped would be as easy an apology as Bryce's had been.


	2. Chapter 2

I flicked through the address book by the telephone, searching for Hillary's cell phone number. I didn't realise I was shaking until I found the entry and tried to mark it with my finger. Whether it was tiredness, nerves or a combination of both, I didn't know, but I hoped that my voice would be less tell-tale. I dialled the number and held my breath, listening to it ringing.   
"What now, Bryce?"  
It was Hillary, sounding mildly annoyed, and I smiled to myself wondering just what Bryce had been getting up to that had merited him phoning the butler on what seemed to have been several occasions. As quickly as my mirth arrived, it subsided, and I forced myself to speak, uncharacteristically unsure of my actions.   
"It's Lara, Hilly."   
There was silence and then,   
"Lara?"   
"Yes, Hillary, it's me. I'm just phoning to tell you," I faltered; "To tell you that I'm home again, and that – I'm ok." I wasn't sure if that last comment was what I wanted to say – did I sound ungrateful? Would he think that after the way I had treated him, I could still expect him to be worried about me? It was all I could manage, and I hoped that Hillary would, as usual, read between the lines and hear the words I really wanted to say. He did.   
"Oh Lara, I'm so glad you're alright! Where have you been? What happened?" Relief was evident in his voice, and I let out a breath I didn't even know I'd been holding.   
"I went to Paris. I – saved the world again." The tone in my voice marked the latter part of the sentence as humour in place of a lack of any real words to say. Then I added, "I feel better now."  
There was another sigh.   
"I'll come back first thing tomorrow."   
"Oh no, don't hurry yourself – Bryce said your mother was ill. There's no need-" I was cut off by a huff and a scolding, as Hillary insisted that his mother was much better now, and he'd only been staying in the first place because Bryce had seemed quite content to live in his own mess rather than have it cleaned up after him.   
"Now that you're back, I should return as well."   
I acquiesced, said my goodbyes, and then withdrew.  



	3. Chapter 3

"Bryce, just what have you been getting up to?"   
My answer was a quizzical look from Bryce, who was entering the lounge from the opposite door, carrying a tray of drinks. He set a hot coffee down in front of Kurtis, who was settled in an armchair that nearly drowned him, and I fleetingly wondered how, with the extent of his injuries, Kurtis would get back out of it.   
"Hillary – he thought it was you calling – seemed rather annoyed," I contined.   
"Ah, well, I may have had a few problems operating certain household appliances."   
"Bryce, did you flood the kitchen with the washing machine again?" I offset my weight to one leg, placed my hands on my hips and fixed Bryce with a humorous stare.   
"Dishwasher."   
I rolled my eyes, sighing, and flopped into a chair opposite Kurtis. He was chuckling quietly. Bryce handed me my drink and then settled himself down on the floor, cross legged in front of the coffee table.   
"Some place you got here." Kurtis commented. I smiled, sipping my drink.   
"Glad someone appreciates it." I eyed Bryce. He stared back at me, blinking.   
"Your trailer," I clarified. "I notice it's back."   
"Ah well." Bryce spoke in his usual exaggerated tones punctuated with accentuated breaths. "Hillary was driving me a bit...odd. Since, ages back. Didn't want to get it out of storage while you were still Dark Side on us, so I waited until you'd left. I still live in the house. My trailer just makes a nice Hillary-free zone, that's all. Doesn't smell of polish."   
"Dark Side?" Kurtis enquired.   
"Lara went evil on us," Bryce supplied. I glared, then turned to Kurtis.   
"I had some things to work through."   
"In Paris and Prague?"   
The perceptive little – I balked, taken aback by the unexpected insight that was, in my opinion, just this side of inappropriate. In an obvious end-of-statement action, I stood, announcing that I was hungry, and would anyone like me to callout for Chinese? The others graciously followed my lead, Bryce jumping up to help me find the menus. We left Kurtis in the lounge, the look on his face as I glanced over my shoulder a mixture of embarrassment and curiosity.  
  



	4. Chapter 4

After we'd all headed to bed, I padded down the corridor silently and drew to a halt outside Bryce's door, listening. Whistling Clangers. Good, he was still awake. I'd thought as much. During my depression I'd noticed that Bryce, though retiring to his room around the same time as Hillary and myself, stayed up until the early hours, and then emerged about half past ten the next morning and rarely had any other state of dress before midday other than boxer shorts and, on chillier mornings, a T-shirt. A slob, basically. I knocked lightly and heard a faint, 'Come in', so I pushed the door open a crack and peeked in.   
"Hi." I smiled.   
"Hey, Lara!" he greeted. I entered the room fully.  
"Can't sleep." I stated.   
"Come on in." He waved me over to him and I stepped forward. He patted the bed next to him as I did so, and I hopped on and stretched out next to him where he was reclining on top of the covers with the television remote control in his hand. I leant against him and fixed my eyes on the screen, regarding the Soup Dragon with the same curiosity as always – in my mind, I could just not knit the concept of a clanging metal dragon with that of liquid, flowing soup. He put an arm around my shoulders and I let my head drop against him, turning to face him slightly so my bent knee rested against his thigh. We watched the TV show for another five minutes before it finished, and then as the next episode on the tape started I looked up at my host and said quietly,  
"I can't tell you how truly sorry I am. I was horrible."   
"It's alright, really." Bryce's voice was earnest and he gave me a quick squeeze, grinning down at me. I smiled back and then redirected my attention once again to The Clangers, snuggling my head a little closer and letting myself relax back into the close relationship I'd shared with Bryce before Egypt. Lucky for me Bryce's friendship wasn't quite so old as to justify the punishment I knew I was going to get from my butler.  



	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, from my position in the doorway, I watched Trent hobbling between the fridge and the worktop, attempting to make himself a sandwich and some tea. Dividing his duties between needing to carry the ingredients and keep himself upright, he was managing with only one hand to prepare the snack and one crutch.   
Hopping between the fridge and his workspace, he slowly transferred some ham, cheese, mayonnaise and pickles to his plate and then proceeded to try to cut, scoop and arrange the fillings with limited success.  
"Stupid English bread," he muttered, having already made a great fuss about the lack of availability of the American variant in the country.   
"Stupid English Miracle Whip substitute," came next as he hopped on one foot to keep his balance whilst trying to scoop some mayonnaise out of the jar with his free hand as the pot scooted around the counter. He laid a pickle in place and slowly bought a knife down on it, but it shot out from under the blade and hid itself behind the breadbin.   
"Stupid pickles," followed then as he lodged four whole pickles into the 'Miracle Whip substitute', and slammed another slice of bread down on top of it.   
"Why are there no goddamn Subways in this country?"   
The kettle boiled and he reached for it, attempting to pour it into his mug with his left hand, his dominant hand clutching tightly onto the crutch, and spilled most of the water over the worktop. More cursing came as he then used his left hand to haphazardly stir the beverage.   
"No goddamn coffee in this country either, fucking tea drinkers."  
This last stereotypically American statement became too much for me, and my silence broke, my laughter making Kurtis jump, and then becoming even louder as he nearly toppled over backwards. Grabbing onto the kitchen table he glared at me.   
"Don't do that!" he yelled, looking thoroughly angry.   
I stifled my mirth down to a giggle and opened the cupboard next to me to take out a jar of coffee grains and reach down the cafetiere. Turning the machine on, I set about improving his badly made sandwich. Placing the two finished products down in front of him where he'd fallen into a dining chair and taking the tea for myself, I sat opposite him, grinning.  
"You think that was funny?"   
I smiled and nodded, blowing on my tea to cool it. He glared but it was soon overtaken by a smile to match my own, and he sipped the coffee. He considered it for a second and then set the cup down.   
"Guess it's not that bad. Still say this is a backward country, though. Your bread is...springy."   
"No different to your sour dough," I countered.   
"I don't like sour dough," Trent replied. "I like bread."   
"Tsk." I finished, taking another sip of tea.   
Kurtis watched me a second and then asked,   
"Found any more trouble to get yourself into to worry that boyfriend of yours?"   
I blinked at him, my face blank, before I realised he'd make the mistake that many others had.   
"Bryce isn't my boyfriend," I said simply, "We're just very close friends, that all."   
"Oh, so that's why I heard you two giggling as you left his room at four this morning, then."   
I rolled my eyes a touch.   
"We were watching TV and talking. Late, yes. Clandestine rendezvous, no. Didn't wake you, did I?"  
"No." He shook his head, swallowing another bite of sandwich. "I was already awake. Back pain."   
I decided to offer a little more information.   
"Bryce and I – we spent a couple of years flirting, then we decided to see if there was anything more, but there isn't. Our close personal contact is a remnant of a romance that never was."   
Kurtis stared at me blankly for a second and then blinked, bringing himself back to reality from the brief moment of living a bad romance novel that my last sentence had invoked. Shaking his head slightly, he swept the last bit of his sandwich around the plate to pick up some blobs of mayonnaise and then said,   
"Clearly, the man is gay." I stared at him with my eyes widened in disbelief at the audacity of his last comment for a second before laughing outright.   
"And just what is that supposed to mean?" I asked, grinning at the huge compliment I had just received.   
"Ah well," he replied, "That would normally be the moment where I'd sweep out of the room before you had a chance to react, leaving you flustered and me safe from questions like that." He illustrated this with a roll of his hand in the general direction of the door and a grin. "But, as you see, I'm kinda incapacitated in that aspect."   
"Would you like me to sweep out for you?" I asked, enjoying the game.   
"Go right ahead."   
I smiled again, not quite sure whether to move or not, but at that moment the phone rang and, aware that in a mansion as large as Croft Manor with only three permanent residents, the Lady of the house could not rely on her staff to answer it before it rang off, I stood up and offered a parting raise of my eyebrows to Kurtis before leaving.   
"Saved by the bell," I heard him drawl.  
  
I stood on the platform waiting for Hilly's train to pull in. It was he who'd been on the telephone, letting me know when he'd been arriving, and stating in no uncertain terms that he wanted me to go and pick him up. I sighed. Clearly, he was going to make me pay for my behaviour by being less of a butler and more of a scolding father. I deserved it, and I understood why he was doing it. I had no right to act the way I did, no right at all. Looking back, it seems as if it should have been easy to seek help, be nice, come to terms with things with the help of my friends. I knew, however, that it hadn't been at all. I'd handled my trauma the only way I'd known how, and though my friends understood it, they didn't have to like it.   
I was shaken out of my thoughts by the train pulling in. My eyes darted along the carriages, and I caught sight of Hilly alighting with his luggage in tow. I started forward.   
"Hillary!"   
"Lara!"   
Normally, he would have engulfed me in a hug, but not today. Instead, he stood before me, the warmth we'd rediscovered on the phone gone in the cold light of day.   
"Where were you?"   
"I told you, Hilly, Paris. I'll fill you in on the details when we're home – Bryce hasn't heard the full story yet either."   
"What changed?" There it was. The question that had to be asked, that only Hillary would have asked, and that I still wasn't quite sure how to answer.   
"I think – I." I faltered, hesitated, thought about my answer. At last I said, "I realised that I didn't die in Egypt."   
Hillary stared at me, searching my eyes for a second. Blinking, he glanced down and picked up his case.   
"Good," he said. "I'm glad."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes:**

**First, thanks for the feedback, everyone! I love it. Second, in response to some of your comments: Yes, I agree that the first few chapters were too short. I was going for a new chapter with each scene, but that's not long enough, so in future, I'll just use chapters for posting however much I've written lately, or if there's a major change in story direction. Also, Bryce/Lara? Hmmmm who knows? I've thought they would make a cute couple since the first film (glad I've found another B/L fan!), but I also like the Lara/Kurtis thing and ATM I don't even know if this will have any romance. I write good UST, but I'm not so good on the loveydoveyness! Basically, this story does not yet know where it's going. It will go where it will go. Finally, I'm mixing film and game canon. Lara's parents have disowned her as in the game, but Bryce and Hillary are there as in the film. Hope I don't confuse y'all. Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.  
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Sitting in my office, my feet crossed at the ankles and resting on my desk, I stared out the window to my side and let out a long, dramatic sigh. I turned my attention to the papers on my desk topped by a sheet of paper entitled 'Procrastination'. It was a computer print out of a neatly formatted list of everything I needed to take care of.   
Getting Kurtis a physiotherapist. Trying to rebuild the bridges I'd burned after Egypt, with a sublist of all the people whose bridges I had torched. Phoning the police station to check that there was no red tape to be sorted out after one had been wanted by a foreign police force for murder and then cleared. Helping Kurtis to check if his health insurance covered post surgery check-ups in England. Going through my post that had accumulated while I'd been away. And, there at the bottom of the list, in capital bold letters: GET LIFE SORTED OUT.   
Yes, that was going to be a difficult one. What now? Carry on adventuring? Did I want to, or had that been a part of me that really had died in Egypt? Could I settle down into normality even if I wanted to? Was it a good idea to return to my old life anyway, with the effect it had already had on those close to me.   
I sighed again, let my feet fall to the floor, and chose a nice easy one to get started on. Picking up the phone, I dialled the operator to ask for the number for the local hospital, hoping they'd help me with item 4: Get Kurtis a Physiotherapist.  
  
"Lara, wake up! Wake UP! Go to work! GO TO WORK! You get fired and so help me..."  
My hand stopped abruptly above Bryce's trailer door, halted by the very strange sentence I had just heard uttered from inside. Knitting my eyebrows slightly, I rapped twice. It opened a second later.   
"Oh Lara. Come in." Bryce stepped back to allow me to enter.  
"Bryce, who were you talking to?"   
Bryce gestured for me to turn and look behind me. I did, my eyes resting on his computer monitor where a game of The Sims playing.   
"Is that me?!" I stepped towards the screen and peered more closely.   
"And Hillary, me and SIMON. Made the skin for SIMON myself. Like it?"   
"Very nice," I replied, not quite knowing what to make of it all.   
My sprite, obviously deciding that work was no fun, forced herself into a passionate clinch with Sim Bryce. I raised an eyebrow and looked at their creator.   
"Ah well," he replied, looking sheepish, "They have minds of their own, obviously."   
He leant forward and minimised the game, manoeuvring himself in front of the screen.  
"Something you wanted?"   
"In Paris, my aim was a bit rusty. I'd spent all that time working out my frustration on the assault course but I'd let my combat slip. Nearly got me killed. Could you train with me?"   
"Yeah, anytime – SIMON and me, we're always up for it. Now?"   
I nodded, and we set off for the mansion.   
"Paris put you back into the mood then? Ready for action again?"   
"Truthfully? I don't know," I replied, "But it's best to be ready for anything."   
"You've still not told us what happened. And Kurtis, well, he's the strong silent type isn't he?"   
I smirked, imagining the childlike Bryce trying to get the details out of Kurtis and failing miserably.   
"Dinner. We'll tell you over dinner. When we're all there."   
Reaching the mansion, we parted, Bryce heading to the training room to set up SIMON and I going upstairs to get changed.  
On my way back down I passed the library, Kurtis just inside the doorway examining the books. Seeing my training clothes he said,   
"Hey Lara, what ya doin'?"   
"I decided it's time to get back in training. You can come and watch if you want."   
"Ok."   
We took the slow journey downstairs, Kurtis cursing his invalidity.   
"So you're gonna head back out? Save the world some more?"   
"I honestly don't know," I said, wondering if I would ever sort things out.  
My new acquaintance's powers of uncanny perception came into play once again as he said,  
"You'll get things straight."   
We'd reached the bottom of the stairs, and I stood for a second, watching Kurtis as he hopped across the hallway. He must have been feeling as lost I was – I had slain my demons and he had got his revenge. We had both got to where we were going, and neither of us knew where we were headed to next. It was a terrifying thought, one I hadn't felt since my parents had disowned me and left me vulnerable to the world, and I had absolutely no idea how things were going to play out.


	7. Chapter 7

Flipping, wheeling, ducking, falling and leaping, I did what I could to outwit and defeat SIMON, but it was no good. In less than three minutes, he had me pinned, and was about to take my head off. And I realised I'd lost.   
"Bryce!" I yelled, straining against SIMON's arms to further the inches between his blades and my throat.   
Bryce must have realised that I was in trouble, because seconds later, just as my strength was failing, SIMON suddenly became much lighter, and my arms straightened, pushing the robot bodily backwards. It righted itself, and then slumped to the floor. Bryce came running over, Kurtis following as fast he could. Bryce fell to his knees at my side, one hand on my arm and the other around my shoulders, helping me to sit up. He looked at me, concerned.   
"Are you alright?"   
It all became too much, and I scrambled to my feet, pushing Bryce away and storming out. Bryce began to follow, but Kurtis must have stopped him because then I was alone in the hallway. I heard Kurtis' words, "Let her go," and the tears began to fall. I broke into a run and headed into the garden, aiming blindly for the furthest reaches.   
I sat on a stone bench, tears still coming freely, desperately trying to sort through my feelings. Egypt had really worked me over, that much was clear. I had thought that I was ok, that I had had my epiphany and now all I had to do was work out in which direction I was headed next. I laughed bitterly, wondering how I could have ever thought it could be that simple. I wiped at my tears, my thoughts continuing.   
I had been tough enough to survive Egypt, to get out, but now, I wasn't sure what else I was tough enough to deal with. Before, I had thought myself invincible. Thinking nothing of going all over the world, into dangerous territory with the minimum of backup, I had finally taken on too much, and it had broken me. I had suddenly been hit with the fact that I would, one day, lose, and though in Paris and Prague the adrenaline had pushed that aside, it was no longer there to shield me. I didn't even have the confidence to tackle SIMON any more. I probably wouldn't have even got through the Nephilim incident without Kurtis' help. Bryce, Hillary, everyone had thought that I could handle anything thrown at me, but I couldn't. Not any more.   
I sat there, wanting to talk to someone but not wanting to move, until I heard the syncopated footsteps of Kurtis making his towards me on his crutches. He sat down next to me, propping the crutches up against the bench. We didn't look at each other, just at the garden ahead of us.   
"You just need to find your confidence again."   
I knew Kurtis was telekinetic, but was he a mindreader as well?!   
"What makes you think I've lost it?" I asked.   
"Bryce said you nearly died last year, and now you can't even win against SIMON, something you've never had trouble doing before. He's worried about you, worried you're losing your touch. Hillary, too."   
"What did Hillary say?" My voice was small, and cracked slightly from crying.   
"He wants you to see someone, a counsellor or something."   
I twisted the hem of my top in my fingers, silent until Kurtis spoke again.   
"People like us, we feel. Counselling, talking, none of it will help, not enough. You need to get back out there and fight again – convince yourself you can still do it, or die trying."   
"Did Bryce tell you what happened in Egypt?"   
"How could he? He doesn't know himself yet. You've not told anyone, remember? All we know is that you got buried under a collapsing pyramid and then turned up alive three months later."   
"It was dark. I couldn't move. My ankle was broken, my ribs cracked, I had concussion, I couldn't see a thing, and there was no way out. I dug, lost consciousness, dug some more. I don't even remember half of it, but I do know that somehow I ended up with some nomads who took care of me. They said that Werner and the others had left a couple of days before. Didn't stay long, did they?"   
"Oh, so that's your problem." Kurtis sounded assured, as if he realised something that I had known all along. I hadn't, I didn't even know it then.   
"You can't go back out there because you don't think, if something goes wrong, that your friends will back you up."   
"I didn't have any back up in Prague," I snapped.   
"You had me."  
I set my jaw and looked away again, glaring at the ground to my side.   
"Lara – Bryce, Hillary, they'll help you. They won't leave you. I don't know the details but I don't for one second believe that they gave up on you in Egypt easily. You gotta get two things sorted in your head – first, you're still strong, you can still do it, and you need to do it. It's who you are. Second – you've always got somebody there to help you when it gets too much, and it will get too much. No-one can do everything on their own. Bryce, Hillary. Me. We'll be there."   
He stood, getting himself back on his crutches, and starting off back toward the house.   
"What about you?" I called out. "How are you managing?" I asked because I was concerned, but also because it might help me.   
"Oh, y'know," he called over his shoulder. "Muddling through. All you can do." He hopped away before stopping to speak again. "I'm gonna go do some exercises. Got the physio coming tomorrow, and I want a head start – gotta get off these crutches. Demons to hunt."   
I smiled slightly, blinking away tears that threatened to fall as I watched him go, a hero in every sense of the word. He'd fallen off and got right back up again, and I was still holding out for a helping hand.  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Thankyou, thankyou all! bows to her fanbase LOL. No, really, I really appreciate all the wonderful feedback I've had. :-)**

**It's been pointed out that Kurtis, though also on a 'journey' now that AOD is over, is seeming a bit underdeveloped. This is because, for some reason, I decided to write this story in Lara's viewpoint, so naturally it's difficult to write anything without Lara being involved. So, I've decided, I'm going to do what I can with Kurtis in this, but once this is finished, I'll write a sort of sequel in which I cover the same story, but from Kurtis' point of view, showing how he's dealing with it all.  
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At the bank of computers used to monitor SIMON in my training exercises, Bryce sat sprawled in his chair, doing nothing. It flitted across my mind that this was unusual behaviour for Bryce when computers were present, and I allowed myself to believe that he was too concerned for me to do anything else. I came up behind him and spoke, startling him from his reverie.   
"Bryce! Reset SIMON. I'll be back in five minutes."   
He stared wide eyed for a second whilst the information registered, and then he broke into a grin and leapt to the task, talking to SIMON as he did so. I headed determinedly for the kitchen for a stiff drink.   
Hillary was there, preparing the evening meal. I walked in and set about pouring myself vodka.   
"Did Kurtis speak to you?"   
"You know he did, Hillary."   
There was silence for a moment and then Hillary spoke again.   
"Was it helpful?"   
I screwed the lid back on the liquor, put the bottle away and spun round, leaning back on the worktop to face my butler.   
"Hillary, I know you're worried, but I neither want nor need counselling. I'll work through this in my own way, in my own time." My voice was stern, brooking no argument. Hillary didn't listen.   
"Working through it in your own way doesn't seem to be working, and has taken too much time. Lara, I really think – " I cut him off.   
"I really think that I'll find my own way. I'm sorry, Hillary, but if you want to help me, let me find my own solution."   
I left the room, not unkindly, and returned to Bryce, who handed me my guns, reloaded and primed.  
"Ready to win?"   
"Absolutely." I smiled and resolutely re-entered the arena, feeling nowhere near as confident as I looked. There was one thought in my mind – that if I was ever going to get through this, then Kurtis was right, I had to start winning again.   
Stepping carefully ahead, turned slightly to one side for maximum agility should I need it, I prepared myself for a fight. Every sense was in overdrive, and my heart rate was unusually high. Realising this, I scowled and remembered when only the most dangerous of territories would get me this nervous. Checking around every corner before stepping out into the open, constantly scanning the area of blocks and columns with my guns, I grew more and more scatty as stillness continued to pervade the room.   
A clump of rubble fell off the corner of one of the damaged columns to my left, and I spun, shooting wildly before I realised that there was nothing there. Closing my eyes and sighing, I bought one of my weapons to my forehead, soothing myself with the feel of the cool metal. I holstered both, and then took the final few steps to my prize, a jump drive containing some of my favourite MP3s.   
I knew full well that the moment I took it there would be an attack. What I was not expecting was that the attack would be in the form of spikes shooting up from the floor beneath me and a swinging blade arcing down from the corner. The only warnings I had were the swish of the axe and a few small clicks from the mechanism controlling the spikes. Without even realising what was happening, I had back flipped out of the way and rolled to face the exit, my guns drawn, ready for an onslaught.   
My instincts were right. From my left, SIMON threw himself down from the top of a column that was shrouded in shadows, and I barely managed to get out of his way. Jumping over him and twisting in mid air, I let rip with my pistols, hopping back as I did so. SIMON quickly gained on me, running without regard into my fire, and as he leapt for me I dropped and rolled, our combined actions reversing our positions. I knew from past experience that it took a lot of gunfire to stop SIMON, and I also knew that in my current state, if I wanted to win, I would have to come up with a quicker solution than that. My heightened senses picked up on the movement of the axe still swinging behind me, and an idea formed in my mind.   
I back flipped again, towards the booby trapped pedestal that had held the jump drive, and then sideflipped behind a column to my right, the blade swinging only feet away. Pulling myself up onto the column, I again continued to fire at SIMON, who was returning along the track. I smiled as my actions lured him onto a block in front of me, and then got ready to jump as I saw the robot tense for a spring towards me. He launched himself off the block with tremendous power, and, quickly realising that my originally planned side flip would result in a collision between us, I crouched and let myself drop sideways off the column. Landing on my side, I rolled onto my back and pointed my guns towards SIMON, hoping that I wouldn't need them.   
Thankfully, I didn't – my plan worked. Missing me completely as I'd fallen to the side, SIMON had continued through the air, and through an act of pure luck his timing caused his path to meet that of the axe head. It connected with the robot's body, redirecting his path sideways. I followed my attacker's path through the air with my pistols, but SIMON smashed into the ground with a loud crash, and lay, broken and damaged, still.   
I let my head drop to the ground and my arms fall to my sides, panting heavily. There was silence for a second broken only by the fading swing of the blade as it gradually ground to a halt, and then the post battle calm was broken suddenly by a round of applause and cheers, and my three friends came running to my side, Kurtis whooping, Hillary exclaiming that he'd never seen such a show of acrobatics, and Bryce, so impressed, ignoring SIMON in favour of pulling me into a hug. Returning Bryce's grasp, I smiled at the others over his shoulder and then said,   
"When did those spikes and that axe appear?"   
"I thought it might make a nice surprise for when you got back home," Hillary said, laughing.   
I let out a breath and smiled again, pushing myself to my feet. If nothing else, the shock of the unexpected traps had rocketed my confidence through the roof, and I was ready and willing to take on anything – in my mansion where I was unlikely to get killed, anyway.   
"I think it might have been just the right kind of surprise, Hilly," I said, moving to hug him.


	9. Chapter 9

That evening, Kurtis entered the dining room to find Bryce and I on the floor in the middle of a serious tickling match.   
"Oh, Kurtis. Hello," I said, "Hillary says dinner should be ready in about five minutes."   
My time out had not been observed by my opponent, who grabbed a seat cushion off the nearest chair and pelted me around the head with it. I screeched and returned in kind, but missed Bryce's temple and fell flat to the floor under my own momentum. Bryce took the opportunity to pounce and pin me to the floor, yelling at Kurtis, "Quick, tickle her!"   
Unfortunately the offer was accepted, and I shrieked and kicked as hysterical giggles took a hold of me. There was a polite cough from the doorway to the kitchen, and we stopped, looking up to see Hillary standing ramrod straight with a food cart at the head of the table, one eyebrow raised.   
"Dinner is served, m'Lady," he announced with exaggerated ceremony. He always did take his role as butler very seriously.   
Giggling and helping each other to our feet, we staggered to our chairs, drunk on excitement. The meal was served, and Hillary sat down to join us. Bryce, as usual, never one to stand on ceremony, started wolfing down fajitas from the Mexican spread Hillary had prepared for us, indulging my love of foreign foods. Kurtis, opposite, looked a little uncomfortable, probably because it was his first formal meal in my household, which I had been informed many times was intimidating enough in itself to those not raised in wealth. I smiled at him and reached for a taco.   
"Go ahead, no formalities here. Take a cue from Bryce." Kurtis laughed and began to eat, relaxing noticeably.   
Bryce's obliviousness to manners was again demonstrated when he said, mouth full, "So, come on, what happened in Paris, then?"   
A silence descended on the table as I cast my eyes downwards, and all others fixed themselves on me.   
"That's no proper dinner conversation," Hillary admonished.   
"It's alright, Hillary. It's time I told you," I said, swallowing my food and glancing at Kurtis. He sent a flicker of an encouraging smile my way and took another bite of his chips. "I left for Paris when I got a phone call from Werner saying that he needed to see me urgently."   
I continued my story in between mouthfuls of dinner, feeling a certain catharsis, until I reached the part where I described seeing Kurtis in the Café Metro, though of course I didn't know the significance of it then. At that point, Kurtis leapt in.   
"I was stalking her," he said nonchalantly. All eyes turned to him. I had already heard his version of events on our way back to England, which, I remembered with a smirk, had elicited more than a few curious glances from the air hostess who was already showing more interest in Passenger Trent's welfare than I cared for, though I'd barely admit it to myself.   
Obviously receptive to the unspoken calls for embellishment of the statement, Kurtis stared back uncomfortably for a second before resting his fork on the edge of his plate and speaking again.   
"I used to be in the Foreign Legion, and when I left in lived in Paris for a while. I have contacts there. Got to Paris on the trail of Eckhardt, heard this 'Croft Woman' was poking around, speaking to Von Croy and milking my own sources, and figured I needed to see just what she was up to. Then, of course, she turned out to be useful, so I got in her way a bit, let her know I was watching her, followed her to the Louvre and let her do my dirty work for me."   
That, of course, made very little sense to Bryce and Hillary, who just stared blankly, Bryce forgetting his food for all of two seconds. I picked up the story again, explaining how Kurtis had revealed himself to me on his bike and smoking by the dock, and continuing on to fighting Brother Obscura and then getting the fruits of my labour pillaged. I artfully omitted the body search that had preceded my mugging, flicking my gaze to Kurtis, and then quickly lowering my eyes as I noticed him staring back at me with a playful smile. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him smirk to himself at my embarrassment.   
The tale continued on through dessert and finished in the middle of coffee and cheese, Kurtis and myself trading vocals as each of us told our own sides of the story as it unfolded. Hillary nearly choked on a spoonful of Black Forest Gateau as Kurtis described in vivid detail the looks and antics of Boaz, and uncomfortable silence again fell on the table as he told of being tricked by her playing dead and being stabbed.   
Sensing this, Kurtis lightened the mood. "Well, I just pulled myself right off that overgrown porcupine spike and cut her head off with my chirugai. Served her right, huh?" He laughed, and we followed suit, though I think all of us knew how awful it had actually been for him.   
I'd heard all about how, suspecting that the place would start coming down when I'd defeated Eckhardt – he'd been amazed to hear that Karel was the true power – Kurtis had held onto consciousness with his fingertips, forcing himself to his feet and staggering out, hoping against hope that he'd survive and leaving his chirugai partly because he couldn't face the extra feet to retrieve it and partly because he'd hoped that it would lead me to him. It had worked.   
The story finished, our listeners sat thoughtfully for a few moments, letting the tale sink in. Bryce was the first speak.   
"All that, and you're worried that you're getting too old for it?"   
I stared at him, my mouth open in mock shock for a second before laughing out loud. I leaned forward and swatted him, and Hillary and Kurtis joined in our mirth, the mood around the table considerably lighter now that the saga was out in the open.  
  



	10. Chapter 10

"Hello, Ms Croft," a deep American accent drawled behind me, and, jumping visibly, I spun round to find Kurtis leaning against the kitchen table behind me, regarding me with slight incredulity. "You do your own laundry?" he said, and then, "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."   
I smiled, brushing off his apology, and returned to taking the clean clothes out of the drier and folding them into a hamper.   
"Hillary's my only household staff, and he can't do everything. Besides," I said, sounding slightly offended, "I'm down to earth – I don't expect to be waited on hand and foot just because I'm a Lady."   
"I thought all ladies wanted waiting on hand and foot," Kurtis threw back, folding his arms and crossing one ankle over the other, inhaling sharply as an apparent twinge of pain ran through his body.   
"Careful," I said, "there's a reason you're on crutches you know – a couple of inches – " Kurtis cut me off.   
"A couple of inches to the right and I'd have been paralysed, yeah, I heard the doc." He adjusted his position slightly and leant his hands on the table to take some of the weight off his abdomen.   
"Why don't you just, for one second," I said, jabbing his shoulder lightly, "stop posing and act like the injured party you are. Besides, I rather get the impression posing hasn't got you very far with the ladies."   
"Just making an observation about the feminine views on the role of man," he replied, taking my advice and sinking into a chair. There was silence for a second, and then he began, "Lara – "but at that moment Bryce walked in, and Kurtis went quiet.   
"Hey up," he greeted us, moving past me and delving into the fridge. Removing some cold pizza from it, he came and stood next to me. "What're you talking about?"   
"Oh, nothing," I said, and then, "Bryce – that pizza is four days old and it's cold – that's disgusting."   
"Tastes alright to me."   
I turned back to Kurtis. "I'm sorry, what were you going to say?" Kurtis didn't answer, distracted by something happening behind me.   
I turned to find Bryce just ducking out of the room with one of my bras. "Bryce!" I yelled, dropping the washing I'd been folding and catching up to him in a few steps. I grabbed his arm and snatched my underwear back, then proceeded to smack him with it numerous times. He hid himself behind his arm, laughing.   
"Ow! Lara, stop it!"   
Screaming in mock frustration, I smacked him once more for good measure before turning on my heel and storming off dramatically. The whole encounter was watched over by Hillary, who gave Bryce a withering look and then shoved a duster in his hand.   
"Go and clean Lara's study," he ordered, pointing Bryce away.   
Still giggling, Bryce did as he was told, and I rolled my eyes and tittered. Re-entering the kitchen, I found Kurtis laughing to himself, and, throwing my bra back into the hamper, I said, "Oh. Very funny."   
Kurtis quietened down and I questioned him once again as to what he was originally going to say. His manner suddenly became very guarded, and he looked away, out of the kitchen window.   
"Nothing, it doesn't matter."   
Clearly, he had wanted to say something, but had lost his nerve when Bryce had interrupted, and I could almost guarantee it was about Prague. I dropped the lid back on the hamper, leaving it for Hillary or Bryce to put away, and moved past Kurtis to the back door, tugging on his sleeve as I passed.   
"Come on," I said, opening the door, "I want to show you something."  
  
Kurtis followed me round the bend of the woodland track and was suddenly presented with the view I wanted to show him. "Wow."   
We stood in silence for a few moments, taking in the spectacular panorama of several miles of countryside falling away beneath us from our position on the edge of a steep drop off created by land erosion and time.   
"That's.....wow."   
I smiled, and pointed to a nearby log that made for a convenient seat. We sat, positioning so we could still look out over the wilderness, the house still in view behind us. We were on the edge of the woodland on my land, near to the area I used for target practice.   
"Bryce and I used to come here a lot when we were dating."   
Kurtis' eyes shot towards me, he looked mildly surprised and very uncomfortable. Shifting, he muttered, "I don't even wanna think about what's been going on, on this log."   
I laughed out loud, my sudden outburst startling the birds around us.   
We were quiet again, surveying the view, the air around us slightly tense. I decided to chance asking Kurtis about Prague, the whole reason I'd brought him here, somewhere we could be alone and talk. Playing it safe, I tried to make it seem as if I was centring the talk on myself.   
"Why did you tell me to go and kill Eckhardt, Kurtis?"   
"What do you mean?"   
"Why did you stay to fight Boaz and send me to kill Eckhardt, when you wanted him?"   
"Boaz needed taking care of."   
"I could have done it."   
"The ledge of the pit was too high – one of us needed to go after Eckhardt, one of us needed to take care of Boaz, and I could use my powers to give you an extra boost out of the pit – you were the logical choice to go."   
"No, Kurtis, you chose to stay. I could have helped you out and then killed Boaz from the ledge. Instead you chose to stay down there in the danger and let me go and avenge your father's death for you."   
He didn't speak, so I tried to prompt him. "Didn't you want closure?"   
Kurtis sighed and looked at the ground, picking up a stick and jabbing it at the soft earth at his feet.   
"I didn't trust myself."   
I stayed silent, waiting for him to go on.   
"I honestly don't know if I'd have bothered going after Eckhardt if he hadn't killed my father. But he did, and I wanted justice." He was quiet again, and he must have been remembering what I'd said in the airlock, because he continued, "I wanted revenge. And I didn't trust myself to be able to face Eckhardt with a clear head and finish the job properly. My anger would have got in the way."   
I touched his arm, suddenly realising just how hard the adjustment was for him.   
"I'm still angry," he whispered, "Angry that I didn't get to kill him."   
"It was all an act, wasn't it?" I said, "You seemed so cool out there. Untouchable. You were raging inside the whole time, weren't you?"   
"Yeah." His voice was still a whisper, but fierce and bitter.   
We sat a while longer, both knowing that now he'd started that he'd carry on, but waiting for the moment when he'd begin again.   
"For years – I had him to focus on. To shoot for. Eckhardt. That's all I had to think about, all I had to deal with. And now it's done, and I don't know what comes next. I've drifted and I've tracked and put everything else on hold and now I'm done – now Eckhardt's dead – " Kurtis stopped.   
More long moments of silence followed. I knew exactly what he meant, but I wanted him to finish, to admit everything to himself.   
"I have nothing to return to." He continued staring at the floor, blinking furiously, his hands clasped so tight that his knuckles were stark white. I shifted closer to him and placed my hands on his, just sitting there with him, sharing.  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Suetekh - I can't believe how quickly you reviewed chapter 10! It'd only been up five minutes! LOL Thanks for your continued support. :-)**

**Godavari - Glad you're enjoying it.  
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I found Hillary reading contentedly in the library. I knocked lightly on the open door to get his attention.   
"Lara," he said, shutting the book, and moving his feet from the footstool to the floor.   
"Could I talk to you, Hilly?"   
He nodded and gestured to the chair opposite him, and I lowered myself into it. Leaning back, I propped one elbow on the arm of the chair and chewed at my nail slightly.  
"I'm worried about Kurtis."   
Hillary regarded me, waiting for me to continue.   
"He's dedicated the last few years of his life to killing Eckhardt, and now it's done, he's...lost. I don't know how to help him."   
"Maybe you can't."   
"I don't believe that, Hilly, there must be something we can do."   
"How did you manage when your parents disowned you?" I looked at him blankly, and he continued, leaning forward towards me. "You weren't just cast out by your parents, you were cast out by the whole social circle you were brought up in. You came here, to live with your aunt, and she and I watched you gradually find your own way. Nothing we did or said helped you – you met new people, made new friends, carved yourself a niche in the world outside aristocracy. You did it all yourself, Lara."   
"You think Kurtis just needs to settle in?"   
"He must have a house, neighbours – people he at least knows, if not friends. Somewhere he can anchor, so that he can start to live outside of adventuring, just like you do."   
I shook my head. "He gave up his apartment in Virginia a few months ago when he found Eckhardt's trail – all his things went into storage or were sold to fund his trip. I don't think he knows anyone anymore other than his contacts in Paris."   
"He could return there."   
I nodded, considering, and Hillary spoke again.   
"You're thinking about letting him stay here, aren't you?" I looked up and blinked, before sighing and letting my hand drop to my lap.   
"He's used to moving around, that's for sure, but I don't think he wants to drift any more – I think he actually wants to build some kind of life, and he doesn't strike me as the kind of person who would find it easy to make friends. If he stayed here, we could ease him into our social circles – maybe later he could move, if he wanted to, once he's used to living some sort of normal life. And – we worked well together in Prague."   
"You've always said you've worked alone," Hillary said.   
"I must have changed," I smiled. "It was nice, having someone actually there to back me up. Don't get me wrong – you and Bryce help me a lot, but there's only so much you can do from the other end of an earpiece."   
Hillary smiled and stood, placing the book on a side table. He stopped and looked down at me. "Talk to him."   
With that, he left the room, leaving me sitting in the armchair considering my options.  
  
The days passed, and neither myself nor Kurtis spoke again about our feelings. I think we both needed some time to think through them ourselves, and to close ourselves off again before we got closer than we were comfortable being. I trained, and Kurtis concentrated on getting better.   
I walked into the gym just as Kurtis' physiotherapy session was ending, hoping for a progress report. I was greeted with one without even having to open my mouth. The physiotherapist was helping Kurtis to arch his back whilst lying on his stomach, no doubt increasing the flexibility in the lower region after the surgery and healing had stiffened it up. He was grunting and exhaling in short sharp gasps with the effort and the increased difficulty in breathing that the position gave him, gaining only the minimum of help from the therapist. She let him lower his head back to the ground and told him they were done for the day, and then directed a smile at me.   
"He's doing well. We should be able to end the sessions in about three weeks, but I expect him to be off the crutches in one, though he won't be able to run or do any proper exercise for at least a month."   
I returned the smile and placed a hand on Kurtis' shoulder, who was still lying on the ground resting after the exertion.   
"Lovely. We'll have you running the assault course in no time."   
Kurtis snorted.   
"Huh. No offence, Miss Croft, but I don't plan to do anything at all ever again. Ever."   
His deep voice was muffled slightly by his facedown position, but the humour still shone through. Slightly. Clearly, he still felt he was in an exceptionally bad way and was planning to spend at least a while longer in an advanced state of self-pity. The physio chuckled and picked up her bag, heading out.   
"I know my way," she announced cheerfully, and hurried off to her next appointment.   
"Bitch." Kurtis grumbled.   
"Oh come now," I returned, "She's delightful."   
"She's a dragon woman who delights in torturing me."   
As if to prove his point he shifted his position slightly and groaned, but made no move to actually get up, apparently in too weak a state. His arms were splayed across the gym mat he'd been working on and his back rose and fell in laboured, theatrical breathing.   
"Come, come. Get up." I spoke lightly and prodded him with my foot. This elicited a growl. Kurtis lifted his head to speak.   
"Get off me, woman!" He let it fall back and moaned quietly. I sighed.   
"Men! Pathetic!"   
With that I marched off. Behind me, Kurtis watched me go with one open eye before moaning again and relapsing back into a state of helplessness.


	12. Chapter 12

I spied Kurtis in the hallway, examining a puzzle box set decoratively on the table. Drawing a deep breath, I folded my arms and then casually walked over to him. Leaning on the wall next to him, I spoke.   
"Kurtis."   
"Hey, Lara." He glanced up, but quickly returned his attention back to the box that, I noticed with a raised eyebrow, he was dangerously close to solving. I watched his fingers feel and kneed the box, his teeth protruding slightly over his bottom lip as he bit it in concentration.   
"I was thinking – you could stay here, if you wanted."   
Another glance.   
"Huh?"   
"You could stay here. Move in. Until you get yourself sorted out. We could work together – we made quite a team before."   
Kurtis' concentration was finally pulled away from the puzzle box, and he set it down on the table, though he remained holding it. He looked at me, mildly surprised.   
"Lara, I don't know..."   
I interrupted, speaking a little too quickly to conserve my earlier show of indifference. "Well, you're welcome, and you said that you didn't know what else to do."   
He sighed and turned away.   
"I'm not sure that's a good idea."   
"Why not?" I pushed off the wall and stepped towards him, but he turned back and I faltered under his sudden dissatisfied gaze. His raised his voice, barking his words at me.   
"You want me to stay because you're scared to be alone."   
"I'm sorry?"   
"You're afraid to go back into danger alone, and you want me around to look after you."   
"Kurtis," I laughed disbelievingly, uncomfortably, "we made a good team! I just thought that since – "   
"You just thought that you could solve everyone's problems by partnering up with me." He looked to the floor and took a couple of weary steps away. It reminded me of the way he had looked when he had told me in the airlock how Eckhardt had murdered his father. "I'm sorry, Lara, I can't stay. And you need to start trusting yourself again."   
Ending the conversation, he marched away, still moving stiffly even though he had lost the need for his crutches. Sighing and casting my eyes to the floor, I turned my attention back to the puzzle box. Picking it up, I fingered it, massaging it into the final few manipulations of the solution. It snapped open, the lid adorned with a small mirror, reflecting my tired, confused eyes.  
  
That evening, we were all congregated in the television room, except for Bryce. For some time our film had been interrupted by cries of frustration, groans, and cursing, coming from the direction of the training arena. As a particularly tense moment was overwritten by a cry of, "Oh, Christine, don't do this to me!" I sighed, deciding that Bryce wanted someone to go and see what was wrong, and shoved the cushion I'd been cuddling at Kurtis, sitting at the other end of the sofa. He gave me the barest of glances, his attention focused on the screen, whilst accepting the cushion, propping it across the leg that was bent across the empty seat between us and leaning on it. I left the room and marched to the control desk, where Bryce was banging his head against a monitor.   
"Bryce, what's wrong?" I demanded.   
"We have a virus," he said, tapping away wearily at the keyboard. "Nothing's working properly, Christine won't do anything I tell her to."   
"Christine?"   
"The network server."   
"I thought that was called Lara."   
"Only while we were going out," he said, not even looking up.   
Hurt, I flopped back against the desk and folded my arms. "I see."   
Bryce glanced up and pulled a face somewhere between boredom and annoyance.   
"Oh, don't be like that." The computer beeped, and Bryce threw up his hands in frustration. He sighed and let them fall back to the keyboard. Turning to me, he said, "We could be here a while."   
I scowled and pouted, still upset that he'd change the name of his precious machine, and he reached over and wheeled an office chair towards me. He held it steady whilst I collapsed into it and then set up another virus scan, leaning back and putting his feet up on the desk whilst he waited for it to finish.   
"Film good?" he asked conversationally.   
"I don't know, I couldn't hear half of it."   
"Sorry." Bryce smiled sheepishly.   
There was silence for a while, broken only by the whir of the computers and the occasional sound of the cooling fans kicking in. My companion reached over and took my hand, holding it in the gap between our chairs.   
"Spoken to Kurtis yet?" I looked at him, broken out of my mindless concentration.   
"Hmm?"   
"Hillary said you were thinking of asking Kurtis to stay."   
"Oh." I scratched my forehead with my free hand. "Yes, I mentioned it."   
"Has he given you an answer yet?"   
"No, no, not yet," I lied.   
"You should ask him again. Do you good, having someone to watch your back. Anyway, you like him, don't you?"   
"Yes, he seems a good friend."   
"Well, then. Ask him to stick around."   
Bryce's face was cast in shadow and light in the dim room lit only by the computer monitors, and I watched him for a moment as he stared mindlessly at the screens, still absently holding my hand. Try as I might, I just could not understand us – why we so content to be as we were. We still flirted, we were still closer to each other than probably to anyone else, but there wasn't an ounce of possession between us. I dropped my head back and closed my eyes, tired after all the training I'd been putting in lately.   
I was broken out of my relaxation by an electronic beep and Bryce pulling his hand away to turn back to the computer. Slamming his hands down on either side of the keyboard, he swore.   
"Bugger!"   
I leant forward and scooted my chair closer to the desk.   
"It's still there," Bryce explained. He pecked at the keys furiously, lines of code scrolling over the screens and his eyes darting left and right, scanning for telltale signs of gibberish that only he understood. Standing up, I placed my hand on his shoulder.   
"I'm going to bed," I said. "Don't stay up too late, you can fix it in the morning." He paid no attention, and I walked away, yawning.


	13. Chapter 13

**I had this fic all sorted out in my head, even went ahead and wrote some of the later chapters, then I consulted a friend and she made me see that, yeah, Kurtis would actually never do that...so once again, I'm as clueless as you as to how this is going to turn out. Darn.  
Godavari - I'm glad you share my sense of humour. ;-)   
Suetekh - As ever, thanks for your detailed reviews. :-) gets melodramatic I feel so loved!  
Valleera - You're welcome for the review - I really am enjoying 'Joining Forces'.   
Ms Croft, I presume - Thanks! Glad you're enjoying it!  
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I've always been a light sleeper, and I awoke a couple of hours later to the sound of someone tapping lightly on my door, apparently only trying to be heard if I was already awake. Turning from off my side and sitting up, drawing my knees up slightly, I rubbed a hand across one eye and down the side of my face.   
"Come in," I called, not quite knowing whom to expect.   
The door clicked open quietly and a head poked itself around, shrouded in shadows.   
"Kurtis?" I asked, only recognising him from the unkempt hair swishing around his face in tones slightly darker than the night.   
He stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him and cutting off what little light had spilled in from the landing. Standing there in the shadows, postured awkwardly, he said, "I'm shouldn't have yelled at you earlier. Sorry."   
I straightened the covers on the bed, a gesture meant to invite him to sit down, and he took the hint. Stepping over and perching on the bed, he held up his hand as I reached for the lamp.   
"No, leave it."   
I withdrew my hand, curious. He sat, facing the wall to my left, his hands in his lap and his head down. He was barely a figure in the dark, his dark clothes and hair assisting in his concealment, and it occurred to me that he wanted the light off so he would find it easier to talk.   
"I'm not sure it's a good idea for me to stay. I can't just settle into a partnership with a normal life for a backdrop. Friends, domestic harmony – it isn't me."   
"It doesn't have to be like that."   
"Lara," he turned to face me, his hands going to rest on the bed, "Have you seen yourself here? You, Bryce and Hillary are this close," he gestured with his hand, "Hillary's like some adoptive father to you, you and Bryce are like something out of – of –" he waved his hand in the air searching for the right comparison, "Moonlighting! I can't live like that, I can't. I'm a loner, I don't have friends, I can't, I just – " he cut himself off, his head falling back to look to his lap.  
"You seemed to settle in quite well these past three weeks. You call joining in a tickling match being a loner? You've watched me train, joined in dinner conversations, teased Bryce with more skill than I have, passed evenings in front of the television with us. You might like being alone, but you don't hate company, Kurtis."   
I sat with my arms wrapped around my knees, watching him closely. He locked his eyes with mine in the dark, what little light there was reflecting off them and making them sparkle with a mysterious quality. Then, he let out a long breath and propped one arm on his leg, letting his forehead fall into his open palm.   
Running both hands through his hair, he straightened up again and drew in a breath before saying, spreading his hands wide, "I just don't think I'll ever be able to set down in one place. I want to, but I don't think I can. I look at people with wives and girlfriends and friends, talking and laughing in clubs, whilst I'm sitting in the shadows and smoke in a corner, watching someone I'm following, or waiting for a contact to show, and I want what they have, but I don't think it's me."   
These last words were spoken wearily, with an air of resignation that made me well with sympathy and reach for his hand.   
"Kurtis, you don't have to be a social butterfly who's the life and soul of the party and who can't step outside without seeing a friend. Some people aren't like that. I'm not. What you can do is stay here, with us. You can still go out on your own and sit in clubs stalking people, you can still stand around on docks smoking cigarettes completely indifferent to the life threatening situations happening to the people around you," at this he let out a short, sharp laugh, "but you can always return here to an evening meal with friends and a night in front of the TV making fun of bad films."   
He was silent, apparently still torn, so I spoke again.   
"You said you'd be there for me. Are you going to go back on that promise?"   
He looked up at me through his fringe, and spoke.   
"Why are you so desperate for me to stay?"   
I didn't hesitate in my answer – I had already asked myself the same question days before.   
"I've never met anyone so similar to myself."   
"Not even Alex West?"   
"How do you know about him?" I questioned, genuinely confused.   
"I asked Bryce who the guy in the picture was." At my continued expression of puzzlement, he clarified, "The one in his trailer with the darts in it."   
This was news to me, and I snickered, genuinely amused that Bryce would do such a thing. I had a flash of the scene that the conversation must have entailed, and it made me laugh even more.   
_Bryce was sitting in his trailer, leant comfortably back in his office chair, feet crossed at the ankles and resting on the end of his bed. Kurtis, leaning against the desk with his arms folded, watched the other man for a few minutes as Bryce continually closed one eye, lined up his shot, and then sent darts flying through the air at a black and white headshot of a grinning Alex West pinned up on the opposite wall of the trailer.   
"And who's that?" Kurtis asked, cocking his head on one side and regarding the photo curiously.   
"Alex West."   
"And he's...?"   
"Lara's ex."   
"Right." Kurtis nodded, understanding completely, and the trailer returned to silence except for the thudding of well aimed darts.   
_Looking momentarily surprised, Kurtis leant back a little from my sudden outburst, then, realising how funny the situation was, joined in with a roar of laughter of his own. Giggling, I leant forward and rested my forehead on his shoulder, my own convulsing in humour, and the solemn air diffused around us into one of companionship.


	14. Chapter 14

**There will be no Kutie - er, Kurtis Stealing! ;-)  
This chapter is for Pterofrog, whose idea it was. She can be very useful, on occasion. :-)  
===============================================================**

The next morning, I entered the kitchen to find Hillary already sat down to breakfast.   
"Morning, Hillary," I said, tugging my fingers through my tangled hair to pull it off my face.   
"Good morning, Lara." Hillary didn't bother getting up – long ago I'd managed to drill it into him that when I got up I made my own toast and coffee. He munched on a spoon of cereal, reading his morning paper.   
"Are the others not up yet?"   
"Is Bryce ever?" was the answer from behind The Financial Times.   
I smiled at that, and turned on the toaster, pouring myself coffee from the already brewed cafetiere.   
"Kurtis doesn't usually sleep in, though."   
On cue, my fellow tomb raider dragged himself into the kitchen, bleary eyed, groaning and still wearing yesterday's clothes, though a site more creased, with his hair attractively mussed.   
"Toast?" I offered him, brightly.   
He came to a halt at my words, stared at me blankly for a second, and then lunged for the coffee pot. Leaning heavily against the worktop, he poured himself a very large coffee and then took a swig, scrunching up his eyes in apparent discomfort. Pouring a second, he turned around and thrust it towards Bryce, who was just staggering in with his fingers massaging his temples.   
"Champion," my friend croaked, grabbing the coffee and staggering back out, followed by Kurtis, who was periodically taking more sips of coffee, each as bad as the last if the expression on his face was anything to go by.   
"'You two getting on alright, then?" I asked innocently. Kurtis stopped, carefully turned, and glared. I sniggered. He began to leave again, but I stopped him. "About moving in – take as much time as you want to decide. I realise you might not be comfortable deciding now. We don't really know each other that well, do we?" I trailed off, curious as to Kurtis' expression, eyes narrowed and gaze set sideways, mouth slightly open as if he was remembering something that didn't quite fit with my sentence.  
  
_Stepping out of Lara's room, closing the door quietly behind him, Kurtis nodded his head in_ _greeting as Bryce passed on his way to bed. Before he knew what he was doing, Kurtis was stepping forward after Bryce and raising a subconscious hand to stop the retreating form.   
"Hey Bryce! Hold up!" Bryce stopped and turned, raising a questioning eyebrow. "You...wanna drink?"   
"Er...I've just spent five hours doing virus scans – why not?" Bryce grinned and turned back towards Kurtis' room, Kurtis already moving to open the door.   
Flopping into a chair at the small table in the corner of the room, Bryce watched his host rummage in his wardrobe and bring out a large bottle of whisky and two glasses.  
"So," said Kurtis, getting straight to the point and pouring Bryce and himself a whisky, "tell me all about Lara."   
"Still deciding whether or not to take her up on the offer, eh?" Bryce downed the whisky and grimaced, letting out a breath as the burning in his throat took hold.   
"Something like that," Kurtis agreed, pouring them both another drink.   
"Well, she's clever, and brave and athletic, as you know. What you may not know is that she can play the piano." Another glass downed.   
"She can play the piano?"   
"Heart and Soul."   
"Now – now you're joking with me." Another glass poured, and Kurtis waggled a finger at Bryce accusingly.   
"Well, what do you want to know?"   
"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking." Kurtis served Bryce another drink, a little larger than the one he poured for himself.   
"Well," said Bryce, considering, the effects of the alcohol starting to kick in, though nowhere near as fast as Kurtis would have liked, "She's a good person, loyal and true and all that."   
"Yeah, I got all that. What about – what's she like? What makes her tick? You know her pretty well, right?" The alcohol slowed down a little, Kurtis not wanting Bryce to realise that he was working him.   
"Yeah, I s'pose. She's a bit neurotic..." Bryce trailed off, and Kurtis, realising that Bryce was obviously well mannered enough to be guarded with regards to talking about Lara, poured him another drink, masking the action with another question and hoping his drinking mate wouldn't notice he didn't pour himself another.   
"Neurotic how?"   
Bryce giggled. Yep, the whisky was definitely starting to have an effect.   
"Go in her room and move her stuff around when she's not there." He downed the waiting shot, a sharp intake of breath following, though apparently more connected with his perception of Lara's territorial behaviour over her belongings. "She'll go nuts. Nuts."   
Kurtis giggled.   
"You're not having another?" Bryce quizzed, tilting his glass towards Kurtis' empty.   
"Oh, er, yeah." Kurtis refilled his glass, pretending to have forgotten, and then downed it immediately, feigning enthusiasm.   
"And don't tease her about how much time she spends on her hair." Bryce stared off into space as he said this, seeming to draw that piece of advice from mused experience. His eyes were slightly unfocused.   
"That is a pretty perfect braid," Kurtis agreed, nodding a little more than was probably necessary.   
"All down to hairspray. Eight bottles of it, all lined up in her bathroom." Bryce mimed the action exaggeratedly and Kurtis sniggered.   
"Don't even get me started on the amount of conditioner she gets through."   
"No?" Two shots each were swallowed in quick succession, Kurtis confident that he could get Bryce talking before he himself lost his lucidity, unaware that it was already slipping.  
"She has this apple conditioner, and it's bright green – looks like toxic waste." Bryce fixed his gaze even more strongly on a seemingly arbitrary point of the wall.  
"Maybe," said Kurtis, blinking to clear his vision, "it is."   
Bryce redirected his slightly glassy stare back to Kurtis. "Could account for her boundless energy."   
The two men stared at each other for a second and then erupted into laughter.   
Ninety minutes later, it was clear that Kurtis had underestimated Bryce's tolerance for spirits in comparison to his own. Both men were sprawled over the table, giggling like children, delving into the most trivial and pointless anecdotes of Bryce and Lara's time together, finding all of it far too funny.   
"And once, she – she," Bryce downed another and Kurtis, shaking as his body convulsed in unstoppable laughter, tried desperately to get some more alcohol into the glass, which was, in his opinion, far too small a target. "She made a toasted sandwich, and couldn't work out why, why it wasn't cooking, and the socket – the socket was turned off!"   
The punch line was too much for Trent, who burst into a fresh wave of laughter and banged his hand on the table, eyes screwed shut against the painful sniggers that wouldn't stop coming.   
"And the – and the," Kurtis panted, before swallowing in an effort to compose himself, "the Strahov! You should'a, should'a seen, the, the, the, look on her face when I locked her in the, the er," his face took on a confused look as he searched for the word to match the concept in his fogged brain, "airlock! The airlock!"   
Bryce clutched his stomach as he fell into new depths of hilarity at the conjured image, and Kurtis, giving up on trying to fight the glass and win, took another swig straight from the bottle.   
"You locked her in an airlock?" Bryce managed to squeak through his tears of laughter. Kurtis nodded erratically, offering the bottle to Bryce. He took it, and, yelling, "Good man!" slapped Kurtis on the shoulder with his free hand.   
"Whoa!" Kurtis toppled off his chair sideways._  
  
"No," Trent said thoughtfully.


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry this is so short, but I don't quite know when the next update will be since I have no idea in which direction to take this next, and I wanted to get everything posted up to date. I know how the story will end now, I just need to get there properly.   
Just a note - this does not mean I'm heading for Lara/Kurtis-ness. Simply observing my take on the cutscenes from AOD, that's all. I like to keep y'all guessing. evil grin  
================================================================**

"Well, they seem to be getting on well," Hillary remarked, folding his paper and getting up to rinse his dishes. I swallowed my mouthful of toast and looked over toward Hilly.   
"They were drunk, weren't they? That wasn't just my imagination?"   
Hillary laughed. I finished my orange juice and then held the glass out to Hillary who reached behind him and took it blindly, a practised ritual.   
"I wonder what that was all about," I said, reaching for the paper, meaning Kurtis' strange reaction to my question more than anything else. Far be it from men in each other's company to need a reason to get completely and utterly slaughtered.   
"Male bonding," Hillary supplied, placing a clean dish on the drainer.   
"Hmmm," I said, thoughtfully, getting up to drop my plate in the suds.   
I left wordlessly to go and get dressed, and decided on a whim to take the long route to the stairs, past the lounge where hopefully my two hung over acquaintances would be recovering. They were.   
At first I couldn't make out their words, but as I drew closer and hid just outside the doorway to glean what information I could, I caught the middle of what seemed to be a pointless conversation, driven by the after effects of inebriation.   
"Wasted."   
"Smashed."   
"Totalled."   
"Plastered."   
There was a pause, and then, a thought suddenly hitting one of them, "Tipsy!"   
"I think we passed that point somewhere around 2am."   
I peeked around the corner. Bryce was slouched back into a corner of the sofa, one leg on the floor and the other dropped across the seats. Kurtis, at the other end, was sitting on the floor in a mass of cushions, his head buried in his arms folded across the seat of the sofa.   
"So, what we were talking about?" Bryce asked, sipping more coffee.   
"How drunk we were last night."   
"Right," and then, "No! I meant, last night."   
"Er..." Kurtis looked up at his newfound friend, bleary eyed, "Lara?"   
"Lara..." Bryce considered this for a moment. "Yeah, that must have been it."   
There was silence a few moments longer.   
"Why were we talking about Lara?" Kurtis asked, the look on his face showing he was desperately trying to recall the information that he knew was buried somewhere in his mind.   
Bryce snorted and waved his hand dismissively. "I dunno, figured you fancied her."   
"Do I?" Kurtis blinked, genuinely unsure of the answer. I took in a breath, excited.   
"Yes?" Bryce offered, also completely clueless at that current point in time. The two men looked at each other for a few seconds.   
"Wasted," Kurtis commented.   
I bit back a laugh and tip toed off, squeaking quietly to myself in a mixture of comedy and excitement. It was always nice to have someone like you, even if you didn't find them attractive. Because I wasn't attracted to Kurtis, really. No, of course I wasn't. At all. Not in the slightest. No.


	16. Chapter 16

**Well, here we are, back again. Happy now, Godavari?! ;-) Nearly finished - events are working up to something. Something...end-ish.  
===============================================================**

Bryce and Kurtis were rarely seen for the majority of that day. Even when standing in their presence, it was hard to pinpoint them due to the perpetual darkened nature of their surroundings, light having a vampire-like effect on their alcoholically indulged bodies. I'd tried to turn on Bryce's bedroom light when going to ask whether he could face lunch or not, but he yelled in protest and hid himself firmly under the bedclothes, refusing to come out until his head stopped feeling like it was 'being trodden on'. Kurtis was a little more macho about the whole affair, instead choosing to languish in a recliner in the lounge with the light off and the curtains drawn, only subtly protesting when noise much louder than a lowered voice invaded his senses.   
They emerged in time for dinner that evening, Kurtis popping a couple of aspirins discreetly and Bryce drinking water like a fish, but otherwise fully recovered. After the meal, punctuated only by slight conversation in which Hillary happily took a holier than thou attitude with Bryce about the repercussions of heavy drinking, I made my way to my firing range, stopping on the way there to collect my pistols.   
I picked off the targets one by one, taking my time, my objective being to practise my sniping rather than my well-honed ability to aim subconsciously and quickly on larger targets. I was doing well, but had yet to hit one fully centrally, and as I came to my last target I concentrated that little bit harder to try and make this shot my best. It was because of this heightened focus that I didn't hear the approaching footsteps on the gravel behind me, and I jumped visibly, shocked out of my wits, when a bullet whistled over my shoulder and hit the final target.   
I spun, aiming my weapon reflexively, but dropped it and sagged, clutching my pounding heart when I was met with Kurtis. Standing casually with his weight on one leg and his gun held loosely at his side, he smiled sardonically.   
"Would'a thought you'd be more used to that."   
Sauntering past me, grinning infuriatingly, he walked the hundred yards to the targets with impressive ease, and if it hadn't been for his annoyingly self-assured behaviour, I'd have been happy to note that he was obviously recovering well. After a moment I followed him, only to find him holding the last target with an arrogant grin on his face as he surveyed a perfect bull's-eye. He kissed the barrel of his pistol and waved the target at me, still smiling vainly. I snatched the paper out of his hand and scowled.   
"It's a talent," he sighed, flicking an errant strand of hair out of his face.   
"I suggest you wipe that smug look off your face before I do," I said dryly, replacing the target and removing the clips from my weapons.   
I moved back to the starting line to put my guns away and refused to meet Kurtis' eyes as he leant on the opposite side of the obstacle course vaulting horse I'd been using as a table, trying to look at me underneath the hair falling around my face.   
"Ah, come on, you're not a sore loser are you?"   
I glared and he smiled crookedly, standing up straight and folding his arms. I wasn't sure what had changed, but here was a sudden return to the overly confident swaggering Kurtis that I had crossed paths with in Paris. A part of me found it attractive, another part of me wanted to hit him. Any woman who'd met a man of that disposition would understand what I meant.   
"Actually," he said, his face becoming serious and his stance becoming a little less flirtatious, "I came out here to talk."   
"About?" I said, far more open to this Kurtis after our time in Europe than I would normally be to a so arrogant a man. I leant back against another part of the obstacle course and folded my arms, more a movement of physical comfort than one of negative body language.   
"How are you dealing lately?"   
"I'm ok." I nodded, confirming my words.   
Kurtis moved to lean next to me, mirroring my own stance. We both turned our heads to look at each other.   
"What about Werner?"   
"I'm ok. I think he was dead to me long ago."   
"Egypt?"   
"Before that. I think he always resented that I left him to get himself out of a sticky situation in Cambodia, but I was only a child. We had a few happy years working together, but it got worse as I overtook him, as he got older and I reached my prime, until he chased me across Egypt and left me to die."   
"Revenge?"   
"No, I don't think so. Maybe his old age made him save himself as much as my youth did. Either way, I never listened to his guilty pleas for reconciliation, and that leaves me feeling guilty now that he's dead. But I'm ok." My voice had become small as I opened up about my feelings and the ever painful subject of Egypt, and my head bowed to the floor.   
"And everything else?"   
At the change of subject I recomposed myself, straightening up and putting the previous feelings out of my mind.   
"Alright," again I nodded, "I'm feeling better about things. The training's helping. Thanks for talking me back into it."   
"You're welcome."   
Kurtis slung an arm around my shoulder and we headed back towards the house, the gathering dusk rendering outside activities unsuitable. Walking back over the gravel pathways, slowly and in time, his arm still around my shoulders in a friendly gesture, I breathed in the crisp air as a comfortable evening chill began to settle. In a few minutes it would become too cold to be enjoyable, but we had plenty of time to reach the safety of the house.   
"How are things for you, Kurtis?" I asked, swinging my gun case at my side.   
"Still hard," he said, his manner not betraying the truth of the words as we continued to stroll casually, "but I'll come to terms. Eventually. This is helping." He gestured to the house and grounds, obviously indicating more than just the immediate surroundings, and I smiled.   
"I'm glad we can help."   
"Bryce wants us to go to a club tomorrow."   
"Really? That's a rare event in the Croft household, but I'm up for it."   
"Cool."   
We reached the front door and Kurtis leant forward to open it with his free hand, guiding me in, in front of him. We peeled off in the hallway, Kurtis announcing that he was going to exercise for a while, and I starting off to put away my weapons.   
As I reached the training arena where the weapons were stored, I spotted Bryce hunched over the computers, frowning.   
"Everything ok?" I asked, shelving my gun case and locking the cupboard back up.   
"I thought I'd got rid of that virus, but something here isn't right. The computers are just acting a bit, well, off." He didn't look up, and I casually approached him with an air of boredom.   
"How do you mean?"   
"Mmm, programs don't always open, windows minimise, something's slowing down the processors...something just doesn't sit right."   
"I'm sure you'll fix it," I said, ruffling Bryce's hair. "Do you want something to eat?"   
He glanced up, flashing me a smile. "Yeah, a sandwich'd be nice, thanks."   
I walked to the kitchen with bored heavy steps, considering what to do with the rest of my evening after I'd fed Bryce. That was the trouble with returning home after a mission – you never quite knew how to handle the quiet.


	17. Chapter 17

Hillary groaned as I presented myself from the walk in wardrobe.   
"I really thought we were getting somewhere after the Triangle."   
"Just because you got me to wear a dress, does not mean that I'm going to stop wearing the clothes that I like."   
I checked myself in the full-length mirror. Asymmetric hem black skirt cutting from just below my right knee to half way up my left thigh, cranberry cropped top and sheer black vest, black heeled ankle boots. My usual club style. Plonking down into the chair at the dresser I began to put on my make up as Hillary, sighing resignedly, reached for a hairbrush and began to twist and clip strands of my hair haphazardly on my head, a style I favoured but could never quite master on my own.   
"Do you think Kurtis is going to stay?" Hillary asked, and then, "Sorry," as he pulled my hair a little too tightly and I winced.   
"Actually," I replied, smiling, "I think he is."   
  
Appearing at the top of the stairs, I was met with two synchronised wolf whistles and then two fits of laughter directed at each other as Bryce and Kurtis simultaneously teased me. Giving them a mock glare, I descended to the entrance hall. Bryce hurled some car keys at Hillary, who would be driving us and picking us up afterwards so that we could drink, and we left en masse, Bryce humming an unnamed techno tune to himself.   
Piling into the Land Cruiser, usually reserved for carrying large amounts of equipment for my travels, we settled comfortably in the back as Hillary started the engine and guided us out of the garage and grounds.   
"Looking good, Bryce," I teased, observing his every day outfit of jeans and T-shirt that I didn't think had been changed for two days in stark contrast to unusually tamed hair.   
"Ah, well, there're girls in clubs." He grinned and slid down further into his seat so he could kick me lightly.   
"Heels!" I warned, holding up the stilettos of my boots, and he backed off with mock terror.  
"Go clubbing often?" I asked Kurtis, taking in his black combat trousers and the shirt with skull design he'd worn in Paris and Prague. His hair was still unkempt, though differently, as if he'd actually styled it to look messy for our outing. That wasn't what was different, though, and I frowned to try and work out just what was wrong with his appearance as something I couldn't quite place nagged at me. Then it hit me. "Didn't that shirt get a huge hole in it courtesy of Boaz?"  
"Only when I'm going incognito to follow someone, and yes, it did, this is a different shirt."   
"You have two shirts the same?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.   
"Actually, five." At Bryce and mines' incredulous expressions, he continued, "What? I like this shirt, and in my line of work clothes don't last long."   
I laughed and kicked my legs up onto the seat next to me, settling down for the ride into the town.  
  
We danced, drank and partied until half past one in the morning, none of us accepting any of the attention we were offered by those looking to meet people, instead preferring to stay within our trio facing each other on the dance floor and losing ourselves in the music. I enjoyed nightclubs immensely, but rarely went, preferring to keep it as a treat instead of letting it slide into normality and boredom.   
Half an hour before closing time we left, hoping to avoid the crush and fights that always accompanied the mass exodus from a club. Unfortunately, we weren't so lucky. After ringing Hillary to let him know we were ready to come home, we loitered at the entrance to an alley at the back of the club, leaning against the walls and chatting about nothing of consequence.   
Maybe it was because they were drunk and had the bravado of being in a group, maybe it was because I was on the opposite side of the alley to Bryce and Kurtis and gave off the impression I was actually out alone, but after about five minutes, a trio of young men came over to me.   
"Need a lift?"   
"No thank you, mine's on the way," I smiled pleasantly, hoping they would leave it at that before a situation developed.   
"Cold night to be waiting, our car's just around the corner," one of them said, leering.   
"No thank you," I repeated a little more firmly.   
"Oh come on," another slurred, reaching for my arm.   
Bryce had yet to say anything, knowing that not only was I fully capable of handling the situation, but that also I didn't appreciate others not letting me. Kurtis, however, did not know.   
"Leave her alone," he said, loudly and firmly.   
"Hey, man, we're just being nice." They turned back to me and continued to proposition me. I pushed off the wall and stood straight, fixing them with a stare and challenging them to push their luck.   
The next thing I knew, Kurtis had grabbed one by the shoulder, spun him round and punched him squarely in the jaw, before getting leapt on by the other two. A full blown brawl developed, and both Bryce and I intervened. Bryce hauled the one Kurtis had hit to his feet and shoved him back towards the alley wall, away from the skirmish so that he could concentrate on the one person. I pulled one off Kurtis and landed a kick to his stomach, shoving him to the floor as he staggered back. Kurtis entered into a fistfight with the remaining unfortunate, and I waited for mine to scramble to his feet. He lunged at me with a fist but I ducked neatly and bought my right elbow down on the left side of his face, sending him staggering sideways. He tripped and fell, and again I waited for him to get back up but his eyes focused on something over my shoulder.   
I turned to see Kurtis just winning his fight, the youth scrabbling back up from the floor and taking off down the street in a frantic, haphazard run. A scuffle behind me caught my attention, and I turned back only to find my own opponent following his friend. The two fighting Kurtis and I had realised that their drunken brawling couldn't match our trained combat skills, and the third, holding his own against the less trained Bryce, ran off when he realised his friends were half way down the street, yelling for him to join them.   
We stood, panting slightly after the exertion; I had apparently had it far easier than Kurtis and Bryce – I knew that kicks and elbows finished off an opponent much more quickly than punches alone.   
"Everyone alright?" Kurtis asked in between heavy breaths.   
I glared. He returned the look with one of confusion, apparently very unhappy under my accusing gaze.   
"What?!"   
"You had to start a fight, didn't you? Couldn't just leave it alone!"   
"Well, I'm sorry if my concern was misplaced!"   
"It was!" He didn't answer so I spoke again. "I appreciate the help, Kurtis, but you don't have to beat someone up when you can just as easily talk your way out of it. Just because you can fight doesn't mean you have to. What's wrong with the smart option?"   
"And what's that?" Kurtis stepped towards me, challenging me.   
"Talking, Kurtis. Draws less attention to yourself, allows you to concentrate your energies elsewhere. I'm amazed you've survived this long if you want to solve everything with violence."   
"I've survived this long because I don't let anyone mess me around."   
I had no answer to that, my mind too fuzzed with anger to think properly, so I settled for staring him down. Bryce was standing nearby, watching the interchange, unsure what to do.   
We were saved by the sound of a large engine-ed car pulling up; Hillary. Glaring at Kurtis one last time, I threw myself into the front passenger seat. My companions got into the back, and we pulled back out onto the road.   
"Did you have a good night?" Hillary asked.   
"Yes, thankyou," I replied curtly.   
I saw Hillary glance at the others in the rear view mirror questioningly, but, realising that something was obviously up, he said nothing, and the rest of the journey and our paths to our bedrooms were passed in stony silence.  



	18. Chapter 18

Sitting at my dresser, removing my makeup and brushing my hair down, I sighed in annoyance. I was offended and upset and knew that I had overreacted. Kurtis may have been hot headed and in the wrong with regards to punching the man, but I should never have argued with him like that when all he was doing was offering help. And wasn't it actually better that he had, rather than just standing back?   
I wearily put my things away and then dragged myself to the bed, climbing in, flicking off the light and settling down. I wasn't intending to sleep just yet. Hopefully I wouldn't have to apologise. Hopefully we'd get up in the morning and everything would have blown over. Restlessly, I went over the evening's events in my mind before turning to the wider picture.   
Memories of Kurtis searching me in the Louvre, the subsequent chase, his playfully condescending salute as he walked off leaving me locked in the airlock, the frisking I'd given him, his face when he'd asked, surprised, if I was trusting him, the way we watched each other's back when we were first met with Boaz, the way he'd touched my face when I'd found him bleeding to death just outside the Strahov, apparently unsure that I was real and that he was still alive – it all came flooding back in a mixed and confused mess.   
We were alike, kindred spirits. We both thrived on the chase, the adventure, and we were both strong and ready and able to take on whatever came our way. We could make a formidable team – we had made a formidable team, in the Strahov. But, I sighed to myself, it seemed it also worked against us. As if to illustrate it to myself, my mind flashed back to Kurtis throwing the first punch in the alley, and then to the moment that I had seen Kurtis unconscious in the clutches of Gunderson, and the way he had pushed me away when I had gone to him after he'd been thrown in the arena. We both wanted to give protection, not take it.   
I pushed away my slightly drunken mental ramblings and closed my eyes. With the memories of my initial introduction to Kurtis, when he'd held me at gunpoint and robbed me, bought to the forefront of my mind by my musings, I turned and attempted to sleep, still buzzing from our night out and the remembered feeling of his hand sliding down my arm.  
  
I rushed out of my room the next morning under the influence of false adrenaline, brought on by my mental preparation for the tough training I had decided on for myself that morning. Moving with too much speed and too little focus, I almost crashed into Kurtis on his own way down as I came out of my door. He jumped back, staring at me in wonder, obviously wanting to know just what I thought I was doing.   
I smiled, embarrassed. "Sorry." I bit my lip in anticipation of being dragged into another argument, but Kurtis just smiled and carried on his way, brushing my wrist with his fingertips as he passed me.   
"Be careful, huh?" He continued down the stairs still grinning at my hectic state, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god, he'd let last night slip. Hopefully he'd realised just as well as I had that we were both to blame.   
Clattering down the stairs after him, I quickly overtook him. "See you at breakfast," I called behind me, but took off across the hallway and into the kitchen at a fast trot, my body still mistakenly believing there was a reason to run.   
By the time Kurtis made it into breakfast a mere two minutes later, I was just leaving, still chewing on my toast, feeling the slight tug of indigestion setting in from the rest of the toast that I had hastily swallowed.   
"Lara, do sit down and finish your breakfast properly!" Hillary called after me like a parent calling to a child, but I had long gone, leaving, I imagined, Kurtis' hair swaying in my breeze.   
"What's the rush?" I heard him yell after me.   
Running to the swimming pool, I dove in, in full training dress, and trod water for a while, getting used to the temperature and awaiting the arrival of Bryce, who I had earlier called on the internal telephones to inform him of my plans.   
"Bli-mey, Lara," he said loudly as he strode into the room and came to stand at the pool's edge and look down at me, "Do we have to get started so early?" He had clearly just got out of bed, and didn't seem too happy about it.   
"Bryce, I'm prepared, I haven't done this in a few months, I want to get it over and done with whilst I still feel ready for the challenge."   
"Are you sure you're ready for it? This is the toughest course in the whole mansion."   
"Bryce, I'm ready." I spoke succinctly, still easily treading the water, impatient for Bryce to get going.   
"I'm just – I'm worried, Lara."   
"You know as well as I do that it's perfectly safe." He continued to stare at me, unsure, and I spoke again. "Bryce. Bryce! Let's go." I raised my eyebrows and spoke firmly, stating in no uncertain terms that I was in charge, and I wanted to do this. At his resigned sigh that said that he was still clearly unhappy about the whole business, I asked uneasily, "You got rid of the virus from the computers didn't you? Everything's under control?"   
"Yes, yes," he said, moving to sit at the control deck for my water course, "The systems are clean, it's all working, it's safe." He didn't sound particularly enthusiastic, but I had no doubt that he was confident that it was safe to continue, at least on the part of the technology.   
Dipping myself back under the water to rewet my face and adjust my eyes to the wetness, I smiled at Bryce encouragingly and swam over the side of the pool where it all began.

**Sorry it's short, but the next chunk fits better in one single chapter. Which is going up right now...**


	19. Chapter 19

Air. Air. I desperately needed air. Surface, had to surface. Don't panic, stay focused. Swim, swim Lara. Keep moving. Don't panic. Don't panic.   
Reaching the next Panic Button, I hit it, but nothing happened. Hitting it again and again, it became clear that, like the last one, it wasn't working.   
I had had underwater tunnels installed off the side of my swimming pool that had mechanical walls that could be closed off or opened up to create mazes, variants on the theme of basic tunnels. I was convinced that training in them, having Bryce set up random configurations, had saved my life on more than one occasion, as they helped me to learn to stay focused and not panic when I was running out of air and lost. Set along the tunnels at intervals were Panic Buttons, which, when hit, opened up every wall, and grates in the floors, draining the tunnels in less than two seconds and creating a more or less open arena so that I could be reached easily.   
The Panic Buttons weren't working and I was trapped – though everything had become a blur in the last few seconds, I was certain that there was no way out. Not being able to take any more, my body panicked, and my mouth opened, drawing in a lungful of water. I choked and coughed under water, desperately trying to find air, but breathing in only liquid. I was drowning.   
A click and the gush of waterfalls sounded, and as I took in another breath, I brought yet more water into my already flooded and failing lungs, and then as the last of my lung capacity was reached, a gasp of air. The water around me quickly disappeared, and I was lowered to the floor on the falling surface, water expelling from lungs and being replaced with desperately needed air as I choked and grasped at oxygen.   
Footsteps clattered towards me, and a pair of arms engulfed me, flipping me over onto my side. I found myself pulled into Hillary's lap, his arms holding me at an angle that allowed me expel the rest of the water from my abused lungs. Bryce's hands were roughly brushing over my face, pulling strands of hair out of my eyes and holding my head up so that no water could get lost in my throat.   
"Lara! Lara!" he was saying, urgently looking into my eyes, trying to see if I was still with him.   
Hillary was slapping me on my back, helping me to replace liquid with gas. "Relax, Lara, relax. Breathe, just breathe," he told me, but I wasn't listening, I had no control over what my body was doing, acting naturally to overcome the trauma.   
I coughed, and wretched, exhaustion suddenly taking over, and Hillary pulled me into a hug, one arm around my waist and the other on my shoulder, pulling me close. I saw him glare up at Kurtis to his right, who was standing rigidly a few feet away, before Bryce caught my eyes.   
"Are you alright?" he said, hands holding my head, and I managed to nod, still breathing heavily, shocked and feeling sick. He laid his forehead against mine and closed his eyes, sighing in relief, and I mirrored his actions, one hand on the crook of Bryce's arm and the other clasping tightly in Hillary's.   
I heard Kurtis' footsteps as he moved away.  
  
"Hey." Bryce's voice was quiet and un-intruding as I awoke. I opened my eyes fully, blinking, and looked over at him.   
I was lying in my bed, I vaguely remembered Hillary bringing me to my room and helping me get dried and into my pyjamas, before putting me to bed, where I quickly fell asleep. Bryce was lying next to me, on top of the covers, his head propped up on one hand and the other tracing my cheekbone.   
"How are you feeling?"   
I closed my eyes and swallowed, nodding slightly. "Ok."   
"You scared me," Bryce said, in the same quiet manner, his voice barely audible even in the silent afternoon.   
I laughed and stared at the ceiling. "I scared _you_?"   
My techie smiled and prodded me lightly with his foot.   
"Yeah."   
"What happened, Bryce?" I asked, reaching out to touch his T-shirt lightly with my fingertips.   
His face clouded over and a look of anger flashed through his eyes. He quickly shifted closer to me and gathered me in his arms. I circled his body with my own arms, and he rocked me gently, kissing my temple before laying his head against mine.   
"I'm sorry," he croaked, holding me tighter.   
"What for?" I asked, genuinely confused, steeling a glance with concerned eyes.   
"The virus. It was still there. It compromised the systems – trapped you and disabled the panic buttons." His voice was numb.   
"Did it mean to?" I was worried, terrified that someone had planted it on purpose in an effort to kill me.   
"No." Bryce shuddered a breath. "No, it was chance, what happened. I've shut down the whole system and purged the memory, there's no way it's still there. I should have done it –"   
I knew exactly what he was going to say. Before. He was thinking that he should have done it _before_ the virus had had a chance to kill me.   
It wasn't his fault.   
I pulled away and took his head in my hands, catching his eyes with mine and holding him in a fixed and solid gaze. "Listen to me. Bryce, it wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known it was still there. It was not – your – fault."   
I held his gaze for a moment longer, but then he blinked and his eyes flickered, looking away shamefully.   
"I nearly killed you."   
"Bryce," my voice was hard, commanding, all fear and concern for myself gone in the light of seeing my technician blame himself, "how did I get out?" I hoped to god that my suspicions were right, otherwise this argument was going to do more damage than good.   
"I saw you were in trouble, I managed to override the computers and drain the tunnel complex." He still wouldn't look at me, apparently unaware that he'd just undermined his own previous statement.   
"Then you saved me."   
He looked at me, his eyes searching mine for any hidden blame, but finding none. There was none to find. We pulled each other into an embrace again, all shock and trauma gone from my mind as I worried about how Bryce would handle his self-given blame.  
  
**Ha. I have the ending pretty much written, and know exactly what happens. You, however, you will have to wait, because I'm going to bed. Hee Hee. evil smirk**


	20. Chapter 20

**Well, here it is. The End. Let me know what you think. I hope I haven't rushed it, but I think it works quite well this way.   
================================================================**  
A couple of hours later I felt better and, against Bryce and Hillary's protests, got dressed and headed downstairs for some lunch. After all, scary as it may have been, it wasn't an experience that required days of recovery. I wandered the house looking for Kurtis, but couldn't find him anywhere.   
Entering the television room where Hillary was relaxing with a quiz show, I hovered by the sofa and watched the programme as a few general knowledge questions were fired off, not really interested.   
"Hillary," I interrupted, "have you seen Kurtis anywhere?"   
Hillary glanced up, graciously breaking concentration from the television. "He went to his room just after we rescued you. I haven't seen him since. He's not come down, as far as I'm aware."   
"Oh." Disappointed, I dropped into a chair, resting my chin in my hands and staring at nothing despondently. "I thought he might have come to see me."   
"Maybe he just thinks you need time to rest." Hillary rubbed my back comfortingly. "Are you sure you're feeling better?"   
"Yes, Hillary," I smiled, though my heart wasn't in it. I sighed lightly and got up, deciding to go and visit Kurtis in his room.   
I knocked on his door, but there was no reply, and when I tried the handle, it was locked. I knocked again, calling his name and listening at the door, but it was silent. Hurt brought on by the fact that Kurtis hadn't been concerned enough to come and visit me, taking away all persistence, I turned and shuffled off down the corridor, my head hung and my shoulders slumped. Obviously, Bryce had been wrong. Obviously, Kurtis did not fancy me, and he did not care as much as I had clearly kidded myself that he did.   
The late afternoon and evening passed quietly and thoughtfully, myself, Bryce and Hillary still a little preoccupied with the events of the morning, and I still smarting from Kurtis' aloof manner.   
Dinner was served later than usual, our daily schedule put back by my accident, and the sun had already set by the time we sat down to eat. Kurtis still did not appear.   
"You start, I'll go and fetch him," Hillary instructed, and he left.   
Minutes later he reappeared, a scrap of writing paper in his hand and his face disturbed. He looked at me, worried. "Lara," he faltered, and I looked at him, noting his troubled eyes and his unsure manner. I guessed immediately that it had something to do with the paper, and I leapt up and snatched it from him before he could react.   
Reading it, my eyes filled with tears, and I ran from the room, tearing upstairs to Kurtis' bedroom and yanking the door open, wanting to prove the letter wrong.   
I couldn't.   
I was met with an empty room, as clean and tidy as if not a soul had occupied it. Not a _soul_ had, I thought to myself bitterly as I reread the letter. Moving into the room with heavy footsteps, I fell to the bed, clutching the paper tightly in my hands and wiping away tears as I read the words over and over again.   
_Dear Lara,   
I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye, but that's not how I do things. That's not how I leave. I move, and I don't look back. Sometimes I think it's easier for all involved, sometimes I think I'm just a coward.   
What happened this morning made me realise that I can't live the life you want me to. I used to know that, but these past couple of months, I got confused. It's not who I am, and it's not the life I lead.   
I can't be with you, Lara, or anyone. If I get close to people, they get hurt. Friends and family get caught in the crossfire of the life I live, and people who share that lifestyle with me – people like you – come with their own danger that I can't handle. I'm not prepared to deal with the pain that comes with loved ones getting hurt.   
Again, I'm sorry.   
Maybe our paths will cross in the future, but when and if they do, I hope enough time will have passed for me to have become numb enough to be able to work with you again.   
Yours,   
Kurtis  
_  
  
That night, I walked to the stereo and searched through the track listing for just the right song for my mood. As the mournful, sadly accepting tones of the music began to fill the room, I turned and slowly moved to the sofa, curling into a ball and laying my forehead on my knees. I breathed heavily, shakily, trying not to cry. I'd felt a connection with the man from the café, a kindred spirit, but he hadn't wanted to observe it. The swishing of clothes as someone walked and the soft crush of the carpet under their feet approached, and the seat next to me sank as they sat down, putting their arms around me. I moved into their embrace and clutched at their T-shirt, numb.

End

**So? Good? Bad? I'm thinking - Trilogy. Make this part 1, part 2 covers the events from Kurtis' viewpoint and part 3 is a nice Tomb Raider-y action adventure where Lara and Kurtis' paths do indeed cross again. What do you think?**

**As a side note - the song I was envisaging when I wrote the last paragraph was 'The Quiet Things That No-one Ever Knows' by Brand New, which I think fits Lara's feelings pretty well.**

**And so ends Acid's premiere performance on Fanfiction.Net. :-)**


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